


Collateral

by FlameShe



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameShe/pseuds/FlameShe
Summary: And so he goes, fading into soft hues of green and blistering, fiery reds.A collection of emetwol vignettes because I am sad and very much in love with this old man.





	Collateral

He gleans it within her for mere seconds--a mistake, a trick of the eye perhaps, but still something familiar, something warm, sharp-witted, and kind. It lasts just long enough for him to take a step towards her, his chest constricting and thundering, only for the feeling to fade. He’s left staring at the girl--her green eyes piercing, accusatory--and he sees she’s backed away from him. 

“On guard as ever,” he muses. Emet-selch’s bewildered face slowly turns back to stoney amusement and her body seems to ease its stiffness at his words. “Do you never tire of it?”

“Pray forgive me. I don’t suspect you’ll stop being an Ascian simply for sharing cups with us.” Her brow is furrowed, still, and she draws her lower lip between her teeth. A habit of hers he is learning to mean _ I’ve more to ask _ . Perhaps he’s been spending a bit too much time with them. Too much time with _ her _in particular.

She worries her lip for a spell longer before lifting her chin to meet his gaze, and says, “you said you knew the color of Y’shtola’s soul,” a pause, a nervous shuffle as she wrings her hands into the skirt of her robe, then: “do you know mine?” 

It’s a harmless question, but it fills him momentarily with spite. “Perhaps that’s a question for another time. Go on and play the hero, I’m sure you’ve better things to do than sling every question that crosses your mind at me.”

“And you’ve naught better to do than lurk in the shadows?” Her tone annoys him. So self-righteous, so _ indignant _. He’s half a mind to call her a brat, but instead he waves her off, mumbling that he’s bored. She recoils as if struck, but leaves him even so.

It’s a coincidence, that’s all. A coincidence that the very color his little warrior exudes is one that feels so very, very close to Hers.


End file.
